


I Feel like I'm The Worst So I Always Act Like I'm The Best

by silver_moon_howler



Series: Maybe They're Born With it, or Maybe...Just Maybe it's ADHD Worsened by Crippling Coping Mechanisms [3]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: ADHD, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, Good Parent Gil Arroyo, Good Parent Jessica Whitly, Infodumping, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Malcolm Bright has ADHD, Malcolm Bright has Issues, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:34:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26355793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_moon_howler/pseuds/silver_moon_howler
Summary: Malcolm is famous. But not for being related to Martin, or related to Jessica. But because he runs a ADHD YouTube help channel that went viral.Featuring Malcolm's confused friends. Worried family. And proud pseudo father figure.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright, Malcolm Bright & Ainsley Whitly, Malcolm Bright & Dani Powell, Malcolm Bright & JT Tarmel, Malcolm Bright & Jessica Whitly
Series: Maybe They're Born With it, or Maybe...Just Maybe it's ADHD Worsened by Crippling Coping Mechanisms [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1878967
Comments: 7
Kudos: 27





	I Feel like I'm The Worst So I Always Act Like I'm The Best

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Oh No! By Marina. Which is a whole ADHD mood. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading my fic.

“You’re Malcolm Bright!” Malcolm jumped to his feet, panic evident on his face.  
“I’m sorry, I-”  
“Can I get a photo, you’re such an inspiration for me, my name is Chelsea.” the girl asked, she held up her phone, grinning. Malcolm’s face softened, “Oh, of course here let me..” he took the phone holding it up to take a selfie, “Is it alright if I touch you,” he asked. The girl nodded, her grin widening as Malcolm wrapped a shoulder around her shoulder. This was a good day, a bright day. Bright’s day, Malcolm joked to himself as he pulled his coat off to kneel next to the chilling body. Everyone was looking at him with that look in their eyes like they couldn’t figure out Malcolm. Nobody seemed to look at Malcolm like he was a normal person, he wasn’t but still. You’d think people working in the police force would be more tolerant...funny? 

It was a good day but the atmosphere of manic energy always cloaked Malcolm. He shuffled to the corpse on his toes, he tapped the scalpel insistently on the surface of the body’s belt. Dani was currently in a non-verbal sparring match with JT over who would bring up Malcolm’s fan. Their eyes flicked back and forth, twisted with confused grimaces and suspicious glares. JT seemed to make a pretty powerful case because Dani was the one to finally speak. She licked her lips, shifting to stand on her other foot, “What was the about Bright?”  
“Is she like one of those murder mystery cooks,” JT cut in. Dani’s head snapped to look over her shoulder, glaring holes in JT’s skull. 

Edrisa looked up from prodding through the victims mouth,  
“Who, what cook?” Malcolm rolled his eyes, a heavy sigh slipping from his mouth, “Listen, it’s not important. She just knows me..it’s not a murder thing.” JT’s brow furrowed, “That seems like that was the first time you two had met each other, she told you her name.” Malcolm felt a sprinkle of irritation well up in his chest. Feelings were always a double edged sword, all these emotions weren’t symptomatic of a psychopath-Malcolm knew he wasn’t a psychopath. But his emotions didn’t seem to work how a person would deem normal. Malcolm closed his eyes, feeling himself whirl around inside his skin on an axis, he was getting overwhelmed.  
“We knew each other,” Malcolm insisted. Edrisa shrugged, “That settles it, now Bright...can you help me undress him, I need to see his lungs.” Dani rolled her eyes into the back of her skull, wishing Gil would come back from the lab early. 

\-------  
“Hi guys, I’m kind of having a bad day,” Malcolm told the camera, he scratched the back of his oily hair. “It’s hard for me to talk right now without…” he trailed off, followed by a long sigh, “I can’t string together long sentences.” He paused and a deep shudder ran down his spine, settling at the base of his back in an uncomfortable ball of manic energy. It threatened to claw into his skin, tear up his lungs. “I’m not going to be able to update this friday,” he blurted out, scratching frantically into his wrists. “Send in your requests and I’ll add a bonus the next time I update.” He ended the live stream, falling back into his seat. Med after med were stacked in front of him. 

Ainsley smoothed the flat of her palm over his shoulder.  
“You can go to bed in a minute, you need to take these last three.” Malcolm swallowed audibly, his eyes were rimmed bright red, “Do you..can we get pho after this actually?” Ainsley brightened, “Like go out..at a restaurant?” Trembling hands wound themselves into his pants, pulling the fabric, “I-god no, I can’t...take out, please?” 

In the other room Jessica sat on top of Malcolm’s bed, pressing her hand to her face. She wished with everything in her body, she wished on everything she owned that something would give. That Malcolm would peel back this infected skin and emerge a better person.  
“Of course,” Ainsley whispered, she looked around the flat for her mother, “Just take your medicine the best you can.” Malcolm ripped his hand away from his pants, reaching for a pill bottle, and a glass of water. 

“You’re doing so well,” Jessica told Malcolm as he fell back into his bed. “When you’re feeling better I’ll get you a full spa appointment, we’ll visit the Manhattan Chinatown...you can blog about that right?” Malcolm frightened a laugh to see his mother relax, he knew a couple days from now he would feel happy about that. But right now all he could muster up was the need to stop the irritation that came from watching her fret. “Can I touch you,” Jessica asked. No, Malcolm’s mind instinctively, he wanted her to step as far away as she can without leaving the room but he didn’t want to anger her, he didn’t want to show her his imperfection. Even if he couldn’t feel the worry it was instinctive. Malcolm bared his teeth, flattening his tongue on the back of his incisors. Jessica combed her fingers through his hair, it was painful. Malcolm wanted to rip her hands out of his hair and instruct her to leave. He couldn’t explain the pain to Jessieca, he couldn’t tell her how it hurt. The closest he could come to explaining it to her was that, whatever atoms that were collected together to create Jessica’s hand were inherently different, the polar opposite of the atoms in Malcolm’s body. His very body was repelled by the touch of her skin. 

Malcolm flinched,  
“Mother,” Malcolm swallowed, “Could you get me some water. Jessica showed no sign of anger, she seemed thrilled at the prospect of helping Malcolm. But the way she stood up was just a bit too aggressive, the way she turned around was too fast. When she turned the corner Malcolm flew up-the horrible thoughts clouding his mind-he descended on his bathroom with a frenzy. He ripped open the door, slamming it behind his back. He couldn’t say no, but everything about Jessica right now couldn’t take any form of no for an answer.  
“It’s all in your head,” Malcolm reminded himself. The reflection of Malcolm stared at the owner funny, their mouth moved frantically. “It’s all in your head,” Malcolm reminded himself as he turned away. Ainsley banged the meat of her palm in the door, “Malcolm what are you doing.” Malcolm crossed his arms, “I’m sitting in the tub.” The tub was cool against his skin, it was the energy of Malcolm’s prickling skin. Ainsley sighed, “Can you come out?” Malcolm nodded,  
“Can you..” he sighed, he had to deal with the rejection for now, “Can you leave the apartment..I’m not going to do anything I just don’t want anyone in the house.” Ainsley nodded, “Anything, just please come out of the bathroom, you need to come out before we leave.” 

They got him out of the tub, they got him to bed. And then they left, granted they left a nanny came before they left and Malcolm should feel insulted but he liked knowing people cared enough about him to want to watch him. An inkling in the back of his mind whispered that they were trying to control him, a slippery slope that would lead to abuse. His heart clutched, what would he do if they hurt him? It was an irrational thought for an adult to have, but it was alright to have baseless anxiety, Malcolm argued with himself. He just wanted to feel safe for once. He wanted to feel unconditional love for once. He wanted to walk without a hindrance.

Malcolm felt petrified, burnt up unto he set into mineral. Until his heart was calcified and all he felt was the barest shifting of emotion. He just wanted to feel something, he wanted to be something other than frigid and numb. 

There was a deep pain in his joints that eased when Malcolm fell asleep. 

\-----  
Malcolm progressively shifted back into his better skin. He could be considered normal by the masses again. Once or twice JT would ask a simple question that would lead down a rabbit hole of factoids nobody wanted to hear.  
“How do these creeps belief this stuff,” JT muttered. To which Malcolm responded-with an absolutely unnecessary spin of his chair that reminded everyone around him like a Bond villain- “Actually the population can be convinced of anything just from influences of media they like or relate to...the act of taking ground up mummies was still a thing up until 1924 when they stopped selling the stuff medicinally. Frankly high class egyptologists started it to show off their wealth and everyone copied. That’s also why there were a lot of cartoon shorts of characters like Donald Duck or Bugs Bunny visiting different countries. We were super into anthropology because it was and is a rich people's job. People were so fascinated with other cultures that we kept zoo exhibits filled with quote unquote savages. Inhumane and disgusting but a fascinating product of how different social classes influence our media and entertainment as well as medicine.” 

JT blinked, “...Dude, everything about that sentence was so wrong, and the fact that you knew all that was disturbing.” Dani snickered, ignoring the stern look Gil shot at his team. “Can we get back to our cannibal case,” he criticized, “Because we’ve got actual, living lives to save.” He clapped a comforting hand on Malcolm’s shoulder. That on a good day would mean, “I heard you, interesting fact,” to Malcolm. It was a good day, a passable day. Malcolm uploaded a youtube video that night on his channel, ‘Mr. Brightside,’ about infodumping later that night. The picture in the thumbnail showed Malcolm crouched over a microphone, freshly showered and wearing a white t-shirt. 

Later that night Gil texted him the link with a laughing emoji,  
“I think you’d have to do more to explain infodumping to JT, kid. He thinks it's something all FBI agents do.” Malcolm frowned, in the back of his mind he pulled out a folder labeled-appropriate response based on past experience and scenes from TV. “Haha,” Malcolm responded, it was hard to understand what people meant when they texted him things, and Malcolm couldn’t decide if Gil was making fun or JT or making fun of the FBI. Or just saying stuff to make Malcolm feel better, or worse. Was he making fun of Malcolm...or did he text that to make Malcolm suspicious and susceptible to treachery. He tried to think of something Gil had tried to get Malcolm to participate recently and wondered if this was an elaborate trick Malcolm couldn’t see to force him into social activities. 

\---------  
It was a frantic, frenzied, manic kind of day. It was a tiptoed to the bathroom while swinging your arms and twitching your head kind of day. It was a pacing around your kitchen as you watched your eggs fried and took your multiple medications with orange juice, or in his breakfast. He forgot to eat his breakfast, another big name Youtube channel had retweeted a link to his video, shopping with ADHD. It was one of the only comedy videos Malcolm did-besides the dripping sarcasm in all his videos-and one of the better reviewed videos. As he walked Malcom bit the inside of his lips in a repetitive fashion, he bit into the skin until he tasted blood in the bottom of his mouth. He bit until the pain was another pain that mixed with the tingle under skin, the frayed joints of his toes, the crawling along his neck and the inside of his throat. 

Malcolm ran to work. He jogged. He sprinted. He skipped. His legs pumped up and down. Up and down. With the motion of his tearing teeth, his clenching palms. The drumming of his fingers along his thighs. There was a canary that beat their heavy wings against his rib cage….ribs, Malcolm stopped and turned to face a stand that was selling ribs, spicy ribs, hot ribs, kimchi covered ribs, barbecued and smoked ribs. They smelled so good, so-

His phone rang. Malcolm picked up his phone.  
“Hello,” he barked. The voice on the other end sighed.  
“Bright,” Gil said. “We’ve got a case in Soho, I just texted you the address, it’s some food blogger that was poisoned but they’re housekeeper says that she was working the whole night and no one entered. Housekeeper was living inside the house with the blogger and there’s no videos of her ever leaving the apartment. The video gives out for a good fifteen minutes and then it comes back on again. The poison is too obscure for a housekeeper to get so-”  
“Kay,” Malcolm coughed out. “I’ll be there.” He turned on his heels. And left the rib stand in a brisk walk toward Soho. It wasn’t far here. From where Malcolm lived. Maybe a good ten minutes. By walking distance any ways. 

Malcolm turned the corner. He swerved around a couple. Past a coffee shop. When he reached Soho he whooped and sprinted toward the address. Up. Up. Up. Malcolm ran up the entire flight of stairs to work the acid in his veins out of him. He reached the front door. He knocked on the door. He knocked on the door again. And again. Gil opened the door,  
“Bright, you’re late, we’ve got an interesting case for you, Adrisa says we thinks it’s a poison dart that was shot out from a gun since the guy was eating on the terrace but that doesn’t explain the security feed cutting out unless it was throw us off and JT says there’s a clear video taken in the building across that shows the man just eating his dinner and then falling flat on his face.” Malcolm breathes in. He feels sweat trickling down his body. He feel energy roll off his body. His brain feels congested. It feels like there’s a heat pulsing in his brain that only let his dopamine through in strips that he rode through until he crashed. Malcolm reached the end of this strip. His stomach lurched. The briefest pang of apathy curled in his gut. And then he jumped to the next strip. He straightened like a wind up soldier. Gil inspected Malcolm. He frowned. “Are you alright, Bright, you look like you’re going to pass out or vomit.” Malcolm waved him off. He walked past Gil to inspect the body, “I’m fine Gil, ‘So much to do today: Kill memory, kill pain, turn heart into stone, and yet prepare to live again.’  
“Anna Akhmatova,” Gil asked, “You were obsessed with her when in tenth grade.” Malcolm clicked his tongue. And strutted into the room. He inspected the corpse. JT and Dani watched in worry. 

His veins thrummed. Malcolm felt his body thrum. His head spun. His heart twisted up in knots. He felt apprehension. He felt joy. He felt guilt. He felt rejection, always rejection.  
“I’m trying,” Malcolm told himself. He begged himself to understand. He wanted to understand. “I’m trying and that’s enough.” His skin began to drip away from his skeleton. Malcolm’s hand floated over the body while he felt his skin drip off his skull. It hit the floor with a dull thwip, staining the rug. Malcolm pulled a sugar free lollipop from his pocket. He hated sugar free candy. But sugar would spiral. Malcolm would hit the wall from a sugar crash. His brain shook. They hit the bars of the cage that kept the thoughts out of his head. 

“Malcolm.” Edrisa put a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder. Malcolm toppled back, he hit the wall.  
“I’m fine,” he insisted, a deep shiver racked his body. It made his body shake manically, like he was trying to escape. Dani rushed over, her palms spread to placate.  
“Are you sure,” she asked, worried in her eyes. Malcolm scoffed, ‘I’m perfectly fine, just give me a minute.” He paused, and the hyperactivity dripped down his throat. In the other room the housekeeper-who was being investigated further gasped.  
“You’re Brightside,” she marveled. The woman ducked under the police officer's arm, rushing over to Bright. “Mr. Callahan loved you, I thought you shopping was very funny.” A sob escaped Malcolm’s throat, “Thank you,” he enthused, “Thank you, thank you...how about we talk about this outside the apartment. I can, I can, I can ask you some further questions about the case. Does that sound...does that...is that alright?” The woman nodded, clasping her spotted hands, “My daughter also likes you, would you be interested in meeting her?” Malcolm laughed.

“What the heck was that,” Edrisa asked bluntly. 

\---- 

“He’s a celebrity,” Edrisa bet. She had seen a couple of Malcolm’s videos but nothing that showed his face and only mentioned his username and was unaware of Malcolm’s youtube influence.  
“They’re just kooks,” JT insisted. He had no idea what youtube was and probably only watched dog videos.  
“He wrote a book,” Dani guessed in the following silence. Unfortunately for her, she was the in the wrong circles of youtube that could connect her to Bright, and Mr. Brightside. She would be loath an opportunity to pass up teasing Malcolm and would watch every video if she new they existed.  
“Leave him alone,” Gil scolded. Who helped Malcolm set up the videos in the first place after his twitter got popular. And originally proposed the idea for a podcast-which is now in the works to be adapted into a book. 

When Gil looked up JT pulled out his phone, swiping open google.  
“I’m looking him up, just to prove you guys are all wrong.” He typed the name Malcolm Whitly into the screen and it came up with a tabloid depicting a shivering little boy, the word surgeon plastered on his face. JT crowed,  
“I told you guys, they’re just cooks who’re bothering the poor kid.”  
“Is that sympathy I hear,” Dani teased. “No, I just think that you shouldn’t bother a family for something their relative did, it’s insensitive.” He turned his chair away from Dani, grumbling into his paperwork. The room fell into a comfortable silence, Dani and JT were hunched over their paperwork as Edrisa spoke into a recorder. She cut a neat vee into Mr. Food blogger’s chest, she paused,  
“Didn’t the woman say Mr. Bright?”  
“Shit,” Dani laughed, hiding her smile in her sleeve, “You’re right!” She pulled out her own phone, typing out Malcolm Bright. ‘Holy fuck,” she shouted. JT’s head whipped up, “What?” Dani showed the screen to Edrisa and JT, “He’s a youtuber!”  
“A what,” JT asked. Edrisa clapped her hands, “I’ve heard of that youtuber, he’s really popular!” 

The most recent shows Bright walking around Soho with his sister.  
“Entering every store that attracts my attention while off my meds.”  
“Medication,” JT whispered, “For like..what?” Edrisa rolled her eyes, “He has ADHD you guys, it says on the description, ‘ADHD blogger,’ that’s probably why he was crazy today if he’s been off his meds recently. Dani furrowed her brows, “I hope he’s okay.” She clicked the video, to see the words, ‘Filmed a month ago,’ printed below in the description of the video. Dani frowned, “Oh..then what was happening today.”  
“What happened today?” 

Everyone in the room jumped jerking back to their previous tasks.  
“Hey, Bright,” Edrisa said, “We weren’t doing anything.” Bright smirked, “That’s...suspicious.” He turned to Dani, “What were you doing?” Dani opened her mouth to respond when JT interrupted.  
“Do you even like Mr. Brightside or did you just see the name and thought it was funny.”  
“I bought the copyright,” Malcolm insisted flatly, “I see you guys found my video,” he sighed. “Well, I guess now I don’t have to explain myself all the time, you guys can just watch my videos.” He beamed, “You’d do that for me right?” JT’s lips tugged into a frown, “Sorry...I don’t watch Youtube.” Edrisa nodded eagerly. 

“I’d watch it just to make fun of you,” Dani insisted, “I got to hear your youtuber voice, is it really annoying?” Malcolm frowned, “Come on, you guys just found out my deep dark secret and you’re not going to tease me more? Where are the scathing critiques, the irritating questions?” 

“If they did that they’ll be sent to a seminar on workplace respect,” Gil said as he walked through the lab door, “That’s enough meandering, let’s get back to work. Murders won’t turn themselves in.” Malcolm opened his mouth, ‘Actually-”  
“Can it Malcolm,” Gil responded, “Focus on the blogger.”

**Author's Note:**

> My experiences with ADHD arent identical to yours. They do not make your experiences any less invalid, incorrect or take away from others experiences as well. I write what I know and wish to share it with you. If you have other character you'd like to see written with ADHD leave a comment. If you're here for the angst you're equally valid, and you can send a prompt for more prodigal son angst. 
> 
> Feel free to ask any question. Point out mistakes respectfully. If you're into other fandom please check out my other ADHD stories in the series. They update when I have enough energy to write.


End file.
